


like real people do

by frogbackpack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), First Kiss, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Season/Series 09, Singing, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 11:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20563382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogbackpack/pseuds/frogbackpack
Summary: I’ve been meaning to write smth inspired by hozier for a hot minute. Here it is.





	like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> Listen I know that not only does Cas not stay at the bunker for more than two seconds in s9, but also it’s probably not winter but guess what? I don’t care. Ok I do actually but shhh. Also hey fun fact I can see the sun rising rn. What the fuck is sleep am I right fellow epic gamers???

The weather was never something Castiel bothered to pay any mind to. 

Sure, it intrigued him, seeing how the colors seemed to blast into its full beauty right before his eyes, then wither back to dull grays and foggy skies. But his orders weren’t to sit around and watch the way the leaves change colors, so he let it slip his mind and continued with the mission at hand.

Then he fell, died and came back a couple times (as you do), fell for Metatron’s obvious lie and locked up heavens pearly gates, causing every angel to plummet to earth in a ball of raging, holy heat.

As a human, he needs food, water, sleep, bathroom breaks. It’s all so tedious, really. He sweats and shivers like he knew humans did, but actually experiencing it was different than he could’ve imagined.

It’s been cold for a while now but today’s particularly freezing, the world outside graying and dying and breathtaking in an unmistakably sad way. Even in the comfort of the bunker, Cas’s coat can only do so much.

His room is filled with various little trinkets he finds here and there, some things from around the bunker he doesn’t think Sam or Dean would miss. His bed filled with blankets he took from the rooms no ones using. 

The mornings are colder than the days, he’s noticed, this one especially harsh. He can’t seem to tug the blankets close enough.

More blankets might help, he thinks as he brings one with him to find others, as if he doesn’t have a pile of them on his bed already. His feet hit the floor and he can feel how cold it is, even through his socks.

At one point, extra blanket in tow, he passes the archives and a faint song catches his attention before he can continue down the hallway. Peeking his head in the cracked open door, he sees Sam flipping through some files and mumbling along to whatever’s playing in his earbuds.

Cas pushes the door open all the way and leans against the frame. He hasn’t seen Sam look this peaceful in a long time. Not since... ever, really. The first time they met, the stress of the impending apocalypse was weighing on his shoulders and it only seemed to get worse from there.

After a while of watching Sam, he finally notices the ex-angel standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Cas,” He says, taking an earbud out. “Uh, how long have you been here?”

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t really been paying attention. Way back when, he could’ve recalled the exact seconds. He’s not quite sure if he misses that. “You have a nice voice.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Sam seems to notice the blanket burrito Cas managed himself into and the spare dragging on the floor behind him as he asks, “too cold?”

Cas nods. “It’s rather uncomfortable.”

“C’mere,” Sam says. And Cas does so somewhat slowly.

When he gets close enough, Sam wraps his sweater covered arms around him. “What are you doing?” Cas’s voice is muffled against Sam’s shoulder.

“It’s easier to get warm with another person. Body heat and all that.”

Castiel just hums in response. 

A few minutes pass before either of them speak again. “What were you singing?”

“Oh, uh, a song by Hozier. Wanna listen?”

“Can you sing again?”

“Sure.” Sam unplugs his earbuds from his phone and lets the melody fill the small room. The song picks up during an instrumental part. Sam hums along until the words begin.

“I had a thought, dear,” Sam sings softly, voice coming right by Cas’s ear. “However scary.” 

“About that night. The bugs and the dirt.” 

Sam starts swaying slightly, and Cas finds himself letting his eyes drift shut. “Why were you digging? What did you bury? Before those hands pulled me from the earth?”

“I will not ask you where you came from. I will not ask you, neither should you.”

“Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips. We should just kiss like real people do.”

And so Cas does.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u for reading. Stream wasteland, baby! Also haha samsung.


End file.
